The Newfound Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
by Pharaohs Queen
Summary: This time history has a slight twist. Humans and elves have mixed and half-elves are now a common sight. What will happen to Holmes when he gets involved with the royal elven house? Includes various adventures. Rated T for scary moments, murder, and blood


The Newfound Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

"The Missing Book"

Part 1

By: Pharaohs Queen

"His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments."

--Dr. John H. Watson; _A Study in Scarlet_

There have been many cases of my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, which I have laid before the public eye, and, in doing so, unraveled the secrets that had baffled so many. There are more of these cases, but before I recount the first of these, I will go over some basic history, some which may seem fantastic to most without the proper mindset, but is merely historical facts for the rest of us were taught while in grade school.

It was in the year 1778, some one hundred years before I had the pleasure of meeting the famed detective Holmes, when dear England, weary of the fighting with the States and not wishing for anymore bloodshed, especially on her own lands, signed a peace treaty with the Elven People. The Elven People had been living, hiding, in our world, watching the human race grow, evolve, expand, and fight amongst ourselves. It had only been within recent times that they came out of hiding. As we humans learned of the Elven Peoples existence, we started to fear them. Their proficiency with all manners of weapons, and that of magic was astounding. But they came to us with a promise of peace, and they have kept that promise so long as the two races have been in contact.

With the merging of the two races, a third has suddenly sprung into prominence: Half-elves. Within the last 50 years, as it has become more common for elves and humans to mingle, half-elf children and adults are becoming a more and more common sight among the streets.

Sherlock Holmes has taken a great delight in this. Whenever he's not away solving a case, he can be found playing with magical items given to him by grateful clients. He is determined to find a scientific cause behind all the magic.

It is with one of those non-human clients that I start my story.

It was the year 1883, a mere 5 years since mine and Holmes' first adventure together, one dubbed by the public 'A Study in Scarlet'. Holmes' fame had spread through out most of England, and he had had several cases every few months to keep his mind occupied.

One cold, rainy day in the middle of a time of stagnation, during the wet month of March, Holmes pulled out his hypodermic syringe, filled it, delicately adjusted the thin needle, and then proceeded to roll back his shirt cuff. I sat in my chair by the fire, the morning's newspaper in my hands, but my eyes watching this process disapprovingly. For the umpteenth time, I considered saying something against this vile practice, my instincts as a doctor and a good friend telling me to help him get rid of this loathsome habit, but my mouth stayed shut as always. As he stood pondering the dozens of puncture wounds in his pale skin, there came a sudden and quite loud ringing of the bell. Holmes, lost in his thoughts, jumped, and nearly dropped the needle in the process.

'By Jove!' He cried, the needle slipping between his slender fingers only to be caught in his other hand. 'That must surly be our next client. Please show her up, Mrs. Hudson.' Holmes addressed our housekeeper, and turned to put the needle back in its case without it ever puncturing his skin, the excitement of another possible case overriding the need for the drug.

'Her?' I raised an eyebrow.

'Yes, Watson, her. And, by listening to her very light and delicate footfalls, she must be one of the Elven People.'

'One of the—!'

I stopped speaking as the door opened and a small young woman stepped through. She wore a pastel green dress that reached to her wrists and half way down her shins. On her feet she wore leather sandals. Over it all, she wore a black traveling cloak, the hood of which she pulled back as she stepped into the room. Hair as red as the fire in the grate cascaded down her back, the ends of her pointed ears peeking out from underneath all the layers. She had very pale skin, and her eyes, when she opened them, were a deep green, and filled with anxiety. She looked at me, slowly blinked, and then turned her gaze onto my friend. 'Mr. Sherlock Holmes?' She spoke barely above a whisper, but her voice was melodious, it brought forth images of a peaceful, green forest, untouched by the hands of man.

Holmes bowed his head. 'How may I be of service to you? You must be weary from your long journey. Please rest yourself in front of the fire.'

She smiled as she sat in the proffered chair and thanked Holmes. He sat across from her and gently placed his fingertips together. 'Please. Begin.'

She glanced at me, and a slight shimmer rose in the air between us, as her slanted eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.

'If I may implore Your Highness to stop.' Holmes said, his voice breaking through the shimmer. 'I have many delicate experiments in this room, several involving magic of the strangest sort, and something terrible might come upon our midst if the wrong spells were mixed together. And it is rather unnecessary to check Dr. Watson's motives, as I trust him implacability.'

She slowly blinked once again, turning her head to face Holmes. 'Your powers of observation are indeed incredible, Mr. Holmes. I have not seen such even among my own people. May I ask how you knew my position in life?''

'Quite elementary, really. The quality of your clothes, the regal way you hold yourself, and, of course, the tattoo of the crest of the Royal Elven House on the inside of your left wrist.'

Automatically, her fingers wrapped themselves around her thin wrist. 'Remarkable.' Said she. 'Very well. Perhaps you will be able to use those powers where my own have failed.'

Holmes leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing until they were half-lidded, and his fingertips placed loosely together. 'Pray, proceed. Tell me your troubles with as much detail as possible.'

She nodded, glanced once more at me, then opened her mouth and started speaking. 'My name is Alary. I am, as you say Mr. Holmes, of the Royal Elven House. I am, however, only forth in line for the throne, and, as such, I have a long time to wait before my rule. But I have been kept busy all this time. Because of my talent in the magical arts, my mother has seen fit for me to be apprenticed to the Master Wizard—who is also the Keeper of the Records. For much of my life, I have studied in the Grand Library, and it is there that a crime most puzzling has taken place. I was exploring just two—'

'Exploring?' Holmes interjected.

'Yes. The Grand Library is quite big.'

'I expect that's how it received the title "Grand"?'

'Yes. There is one map of the Library only, and it resides in the mind of the Master Wizard.'

Holmes nodded his head. 'Interesting. Please continue.'

'Just two days ago, I was exploring a wing of the Grand Library I had never been down before when I found myself among books containing many of the Forbidden Arts. All of the books are crammed onto the shelves, and have been kept under magical lock and key for millennia. Only the Master Wizard can pull a book from those shelves.

'Curious, I wandered down the rows, looking at the books and their various titles, many of which were in a curly foreign script that I did not know how to read. Here and there a book would be placed in a separate glass container, bound physically with chains and well as with the strongest magic. As I looked at these, I could feel the ill will, hatred, and sometimes even bloodlust radiating from them.'

A small smile slowly spread across Holmes' face. 'Most interesting.'

Alarycontinued. 'I had just reached the end of one row of books when I heard a slight shuffling noise coming from the next row over. I was startled; as far as I knew, no one but I had been looking in that section. I ran over as quietly as I could, but there was no one there. However, at the end of the row was a case such as been holding other books, but it was bigger, and covered all over with silver. The lid had been opened, the chains lay scattered from one shelf to the other, and the book inside was missing.'

'Do you know which book it was?'

She nodded, hesitantly. 'I-I do. And that book is the reason I am telling you this story right now.'

Holmes sat up, his eyes still somewhat closed, but a bright spark was gathering beneath those lids, I could tell. 'Which book was it?'

She took a deep, shuddering breath. 'The book that contains the darkest arts of our kind: _The Book of Black Necromancy and Black Puppetry_.'

Even though I knew almost nothing about the art of magic, the way which those words were spoken sent a chill running through me, and a sense of foreboding filled the room. Holmes' eyes flew open, and he fixed them on her.

'Will you bring me my book of references, Watson?'His voice was soft. 'Ah.' He said once I had handed it to him. 'Necromancy. A black art involving bringing the dead back into the living realm; mostly used for prophesying, other times, to bring forth an army of corpses that are not easily killed. The dead brought back to life by means of this art are known as "undead". The Elven King Frond II forbade this art after a particularly disastrous civil war between the elves and their dark counterparts, the Tamesis Elves. The most notable practitioner of this art was the Dark Wizard Gwydion.' Holmes snapped the book shut and laid it on the table next to him. He leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees and fixed his intense gaze upon Alary. 'Now, what could possibly be the most dangerous book in your world has been stolen?'

'Yes.'

'There was nothing left in the case? No note, or any unusual markings?'

'No.'

'How far apart are the rows in the Library?'

'They are about 15 meters in height, 1 meter below the ceiling. They run 12 meters lengthways and are about 1 meter thick—for some of the books they shelve are very large.'

I was astounded. 'Fifteen meters up? How on earth do you get to the top?'

She gave me a funny look, but Holmes answered for her. 'Isn't it obvious doctor? They have ladders, or they levitate.'

'Levitate!'

'Of course. I've dabbled in some experiments about levitation myself.' He turned his attention back to our visitor. 'Is there anything at all that you left out? Think hard; even the most mundane detail can be of great importance.'

Alary sat back, and closed her eyes. 'Yes. As I was running down the row, I heard a snap, a click, and then a muffled grunt. I heard this when I was almost to the end of my row.'

'Was there a window by the case?'

'No. There are no windows in the Forbidden Arts section.'

'I you heard the noise at the time you said you did, that would give someone almost no time to get away. Was it possible for him to be invisible?'

'No, I've been trained, and I have the ability to see invisible people.'

'People?'

'Items are a bit harder to see. They don't leave the same shimmer in the air as living things do, because they are inanimate.'

'Teleported, then?'

'No. There is magical residue in the air after someone has teleported.'

'I assume that, as an apprentice to the Keeper of the Records, your magic is the greatest in the Library at any given time.'

'Most of the time, yes. Although my master has greater magical powers than I do, and my magical powers do wane when I am tired and have not had the chance to rest.'

'And was your magic strong at the time?'

'Relatively, yes.'

Holmes leaned back, a satisfied glint in his eye. 'Most interesting. Thank you, your Highness. I wish for you to go and rest yourself somewhere within easy access, and Dr. Watson and I will accompany you back to the Library to look at the scene of the crime.'

She stood up and inclined her head. 'Thank you very much Mr. Holmes. My mind has been eased somewhat. I will be here tomorrow at six thirty sharp to get you both. It is a long journey by carriage, so be prepared.' And with that, she walked out of the room.

Smiling, Holmes walked over to the mantle and stuffed his pipe with tobacco from the Persian slipper, lit it, then started pacing around the room with a small smile on his lips, drawing deeply from the pipe.

'What do you make of all this Holmes?' I asked, laying aside my pen and the record book. 'What could it mean for the world should that book not be found?'

'It would mean disaster for both races, I imagine.' He said, not stopping his movement around the room. 'A book with a title that sends chills even down _my_ spine is not one to be taken lightly, nor the one who stole it. Or…' He stopped, puffing hard on his pipe. 'Or perhaps…' His eyes lit up. 'By Jove! That could be it!'

I still sat, confused by his sudden moment of enlightenment. 'What could be it, Holmes?'

'Come now Watson. Time for bed! It is late already, and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow! I have a feeling that you will need all the sleep you can get.' He pulled me out of the chair and was pushing me towards my room.

'But Holmes—'

'Good night doctor!' He called, shutting the door and leaving me alone in the hallway to ponder what on earth had just happened.

Sunrise the next morning found Holmes and I seated in a carriage with Alary heading northwards out of London. Alary was explaining what a typical day was like for her, at Holmes' request.

'I start early every morning. Because I am part of the royal family, we first dine together, and then sit in hearings for half of the morning. Afterwards, I am sent to my master for my daily lesson, which can sometimes take up a good part of the day, extending to and sometimes through lunch. Afterwards, I am left on my own to practice what I had just learned until it is almost as natural as breathing. Before dinner, my brother and I go and practice our archery with the Master Bowman, and after that, we practice our combat with the Master Swordsman. Then, depending on what is happening in the evening, I may go back to my room and practice some more, or to the Library to catalog and study. Or, there might be a banquet or an important guest visiting, so I attend to that with my family. One thing about my family. It is only those of the royal line that have such bright red hair.' She twirled a strand between her fingers. 'I am warning you, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, so that you know whom to give the proper respect to.'

Holmes nodded. A knock came from the roof.

'It is time, Lady Alary.'

A slight frown creased her forehead, and she turned to us. 'Right. I will have to put you to sleep now, otherwise the transportation spell will not work.'

I could feel my eyes widening. 'Transportation?' Then she waved her hands in front of my eyes and whispered in my ear, and the world became black.

'Watson!!'

The sudden disturbance in my sleep caused me to jump, and I rolled over, falling out of a bed that was not my own. Laughter rang around the room. I looked up and saw Holmes clutching at his sides. Feeling embarrassed and more than a little angry, I stood up and straightened my shirt. 'Was that really necessary Holmes?'

His laughter died down and he became his usual serious self again. 'Of course Watson. It can be rather difficult to wake someone from his or her first magical slumber. Now hurry. Lady Alary is waiting to show us to the scene.'

Alary led us down several hallways that had been richly painted with a wide variety of scenes. 'This,' she said, gesturing to the walls. 'Is the history of our people. We have it all written down, of course, but the paintings are so beautiful, and a tradition. Come along Mr. Holmes, the Library is just down this way.'

Holmes had stopped in front of a mosaic depicting two groups of people charging at each other. He took one last long look at it before catching up with us.

Eventually we came to a stop in front of a large pair of oak doors. Carved into the wood were images of a forest, and several of the flowing Elven characters. Alary pushed on the doors, easily opening them. 'Welcome, gentlemen, to the Grand Library.'

**To be continued…**


End file.
